


Poppy-Warm Sunbeam

by honebami



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Gen, the tags of my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honebami/pseuds/honebami
Summary: Mikan and Angie make art together.





	Poppy-Warm Sunbeam

"Come on, Mikan... It's gonna be okay..." Mikan muttered to herself as she turned her hands over and over. Oh, it was no use when her head was like roaring seawater. She took a tiny step forward before mewling and shuffling backwards into the wall. 

She tried once more to step forward on shaking-doe legs. One, two, three, four steps. Breathe. Reach for the doorknob. Five, six, and-

The door burst open. Mikan shrieked and covered her ears as Angie's voice rang out. "Mikan, you came! Come on in!" 

Angie grabbed Mikan's still trembling arm and pulled her into the room. "Wait right here," she said as she hopped off and left Mikan curled in on herself by the entrance.

Mikan took stuttering breaths. She rubbed her hands together and stared down at her reddened skin. "U-Um, Angie..." She trailed off into a mousy peep.

"What? What is it?" Angie leaned over the painted mushroom stool she had pulled out to the center of the room. 

"Y-You said you wanted to paint with me, so would you want to- I mean, did- did you-" Mikan stopped to catch her breath. "Please, um, paint on me if you want! Or c-cover me in plaster, or use my hair as a paint brush and drag me across the floor-"

"Oh! No, no! God just wanted to paint a picture of you, that's all! Because you're so beautiful!" Angie giggled as Mikan squeaked and covered her mouth. "All God wants you to do is just sit still here, okay?"

"I-I, um, o-okay," Mikan said as she sat. Her legs trembled like the stems of a flower whose weight it couldn't support. She stared down at red fingers that pushed and scraped through and against each other.

"God says you should look over here, though!" called Angie from her easel. Mikan squeaked and snapped up. "And smile, smile!" She poked a finger into each soft cheek and gave a blossoming grin.

Mikan tried, she did, but her mouth could barely bud before wilting. Angie still beamed at her. If only, if only, a thing like Mikan could bloom under that light.

Mikan drooped and closed up as she watched Angie paint. Angie was like liquid honey, she thought, sweet and flowing, or a sunflower that boomed and reached. Mikan didn't know much about Angie's God, or any gods for that matter; but seeing Angie like this made her wonder if she really was held by something greater than she could imagine.

Art wasn't a talent Mikan thought she could relate to. As she watched Angie's deft fingers twist and move, though, she was reminded of the precision her own talent required. There wasn't much Mikan felt she could do, but she could quell her shaking hands enough to give the right pressures of the moment, to twist and flick her forcep fingers.

For a nurse, that dexterity was fixed and planned without room for a playful soul. Not so for an artist, though. Angie danced and beat with a rhythmic smile. Her hands sparked across the canvas. Warm and open and blooming with a sunshine trust that fired and anchored her visions.

Mikan looked down at her bruised berry hands and traced a scraping line down her thumb. If Angie was hot orange-milk tea, then Mikan was more of a metallic blood tang. She swallowed down the twisting of weeds in her throat.

"Okay, God's work is done!"

Mikan sprouted from her stupor. "Do-Do I, should I, um," she babbled as kettle steam whistled through her head.

"Yeah, yeah! Come here and see!" Angie's smile was like creamed honey. Mikan wondered what it felt like to be so at ease, to be nothing at all like herself.

"O-Okay! I'm sorry, I'll come right now," Mikan said as she put one trembling foot in front of the other. Hot slush rushed around and through her head, her hands felt like dried-shell glue, and- 

She slipped and smashed against the floor.

Angie was calling out to her, but she couldn't hear over the dizzy hot swirls, the clotted suffocation of shame and bruising. Not now, not now, she didn't mean to, at least not this time; or maybe she had, and she just couldn't tell delusions of helplessness from her own desperate manipulations.

Petal skin hands gripped Mikan's. "Can you hear Angie, Mikan?"

Mikan squinted up to the light. Angie's pigtails brushed like feathers against her cheeks.

"I-I-," Mikan hiccuped through her tears, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, don't hate me, I-"

Angie pulled Mikan to her chest. "It's okay, God doesn't hate you, Mikan." She ran a hand through her hair. "There, there..."

Mikan trembled in her embrace. "W-Would, um, the painting, is it, um..." Angie tilted her head to the side. "Where is it..?"

"Oh!" Angie let go of Mikan and swept her gaze over the mess. "Oh no," she whined as she moved on all fours to grab the fallen painting and hold it up.

Mikan's breath caught in her throat. It was a beautiful painting, of curdled curls and drips that built a body she could hardly imagine was meant to be hers; but smeared over Mikan's own painted face was a smeared spatter of paint.

Her vision swam and blurred. No, no, no no no- this was her fault, this was all her fault - she was going to be killed- such a filthy no good disgusting thing she was- she only hurt everyone who came near; she was babbling now, and she knew she was crying but not what she was saying and her arms were raised but they couldn't protect her but-

Gentle fingers laced through Mikan's trembling hands and pulled them down. "Shh... It's alright," whispered Angie. "Look at Angie..." Mikan blinked the tears from her eyes and looked through rain-dewed petals at Angie's hands holding her own. "Look at Angie," she repeated. 

Mikan took a stuttered breath, swallowed, bit her lip, and looked up. Angie smiled softly as she sat across from her.

"Angie told you before, you just need to smile. Then, everything will be okay!" She leaned her weight to one side. Mikan let out a squeak as she was pulled along. "Smile," Angie leaned them over to the other side, "smile," she rocked them back again, "smile!" 

This time, Mikan leaned along with her. Angie let out a giggle and squeezed Mikan's hands tighter. "See? You're smiling now too!"

Sure enough, she could feel it; her mouth was curled in a trembling bloom. "Hehe... Ehehe..."

"Waah! You laughed! See, everything's alright!"

Mikan and Angie giggled together, still squeezing each other's hands. "T-Thank you," mumbled Mikan. "Um, I- Can I do anything to make up for it...?"

"Oh! It’s okay, God's not mad about the painting. Angie will show you!" She rose to her feet and pulled Mikan up with her.

"Angie usually doesn't let anyone watch, but God says we can make an exception this time," she said as she set the marred painting back upon the easel and began to paint once again.

Mikan chewed lightly at her finger as she watched Angie hum to life. She lowered her gaze to her hanging hand. Someone like her didn't deserve to watch. Angie's brush slapped and tapped against the canvas. She dared, after a soft moment, to flick her eyes up.

The blotches Mikan had caused were blossoms exploding in the sky. She gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth.

Angie looked over at her and giggled. "There are no accidents in art," she said as she turned back to finish repainting Mikan's face. "God intends for everything to happen. What seems like a mistake will make everything more beautiful." She held the painting up. "See? You’re beautiful too!"

Mikan bit down on her finger. She buried blurred eyes into her hands. Hot tears dribbled and drained down her rose-flushed cheeks.

"Mikan? What's wrong?" asked Angie as she set the painting back on the easel. "Do you not like it?"

Mikan smeared a clammy hand over her eyes and giggled a little through her tears. "N-No, I," she hiccuped, "I-I, it, um, the- the," she gasped for breath, "I li- I love it."

"Oh!" Angie giggled. "Angie doesn't know why you're crying though? But Angie is happy if you're happy!" She spread her arms wide. "God loves you, Mikan! And so does Angie!"

Mikan blinked the last of her tears from her eyes and, after a moment of hesitation and a dewdrop of fear, lowered her arms and turned her palms forward and out, like flowers facing the sun. Angie looked from Mikan’s open hands to her gentle smile before beaming like the sun and squeezing Mikan close.

Mikan froze for a moment before tenderly lacing her hands around Angie in return. "Thank you," she murmured. "You're... like a real angel."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading !! i ve done some mikangie art [here](http://bells.tumblr.com/tagged/mikangie) if you d like to see !


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